I grab my coat and tug on my boots before opening the door.
Dixon’s here right on time. Not a minute before. Not a minute after.
And maybe I wasn’t standing here, waiting with nervous anticipation, but I also wasn’t standing here, waiting for him to never show, and that counts for something.
He’s holding a small bouquet of flowers and wearing a big smile.
“These are for you,” he says.
“They’re beautiful,” I say, and I mean it.
“Not as beautiful as you.”
Matty appears behind me. She says hello to Dixon, and I hand the flowers to her, asking her to put them in a vase for me.
Then I let Dixon walk me to the passenger side of his truck and open the door for me. We ride into town, passing The Soused Cow, and head to the romantic little Italian restaurant tucked on a quiet street.
And I ignore the tiny voice in my head that’s still wondering what Waylon is doing right now—and with whom.
How did I let these fools talk me into this again?
Cheyenne and Ruby decided to stay the night at Ironhorse to help Momma make sweet potato pies for tomorrow, which left me with a free evening. One I intended to spend in my quiet cabin with a six-pack and ESPN. But instead, I let Allen and Seth drag me into town, and I told myself I’d just stay for an hour.
The Soused Cow is already pulsing when we push through the doors. The band’s in full swing, the bass rattling the ground. The floor is sticky with spilled cocktails, and the crowd is crackling with holiday energy. Half the county seems to be here. Everyone is home for Thanksgiving, and ranches are running on skeleton crews till Monday.
Everyone’s looking to have a good time.
I spot the Wildhaven Storm group instantly.
Bryce has a ring of wannabe cowboys and starry-eyed fangirls gathered around him like he’s a damn rock star. Cabe and Royce and Axle are packed in at the table, beers in hand. Charli and Harleigh are up near the stage, shaking their asses.
But I don’t see Shelby.
Or Matty.
I angle toward the table, and Allen and Seth peel off toward the bar.
Cabe sees me coming and starts waving me over. “Hey, Way!”
“Hey, bud.” I slide into an empty chair and bump fists with Royce and Axle.
The waitress appears like magic, and I order a beer, my eyes still scanning the room.
“Where’s everybody?” I ask.
Cabe’s grin is slow and knowing. “She’s not here, man.”
My stomach drops. “Not feeling up to going out?”
He shrugs. “Guess she was feeling just fine because she got all gussied up for her date.”
Date.
The word lands like the punch he intended.
“Date?” I repeat, even though I already know.
He leans back and slaps my shoulder. “Yep. Ol’ Dixon Fisher is wining and dining her as we speak.”
